


Perspectives

by woveninharmony



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Getting Together, Hilarious misunderstandings, Laws and Customs Among the Eldar, M/M, Sexual Frustration, kind of a rom-com?, the other 10 percent is my Glorfindel kink showing, this is 90 percent tongue-in-cheek fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 04:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woveninharmony/pseuds/woveninharmony
Summary: When Glorfindel comes to Imladris, his great beauty and odd ways catch the eye of the valley’s chief counselor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Intended as kind of a spoof on the usual tropes for this pairing - where Erestor is a thousand-year-old virgin and Glorfindel is a valiant knight-in-shining armor type. I ended up poking a lot of fun at some of my absolute favorite fanfiction faux pas, as well.
> 
> In short: I had far too much fun writing this and I apologize for everything.

It was a sweltering hot midsummer’s day when the esteemed Lord Glorfindel, formerly of Gondolin, and then of Lindon, and now of Imladris, finally crossed his path. 

Erestor had begun to wonder if it was only idle gossip that such an elf had come to reside among them when the very elf in question came meandering into the library, where he and Elrond were convened in various stages of overheated, disgruntled dishevelment over the previous summer’s inventories, trying to find something boring to do that required very little movement and no going outside at all. 

“Well met!” came a deep and musical voice, and that was all the warning Erestor had before he looked up and was met with a vision of such magnificence that he thought perhaps the heat had finally driven him to hallucinate. 

He blinked rapidly, but the mirage only stood fast and smiled.

He was tall and broad-shouldered and incredibly, insufferably blond, with waves like gold and flax and sunlight that were haphazardly braided back from his handsome face.

Erestor froze where he sat, eyebrows raised, the parchment in his hand forgotten and drooping away from where Elrond was reaching for it. The elf-lord grabbed it from him and gave him an odd look, before turning on the intruder with a smile. 

“Well met, Lord Glorfindel,” he said, and gave Erestor a hard kick beneath the table. 

“Well met,” he hastened to say, and sat up straighter in his chair, and smoothed his hair a bit.

The elf smiled even more broadly and stared at Erestor. Elrond cleared his throat. “This is Erestor, my most trusted advisor and my _oldest_ friend.”

Erestor kicked him back for that, and tried not to look as irritated as he felt.

“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Master Erestor,” Glorfindel proclaimed, and gave a little bow, which left Erestor feeling quite flustered.

“And I yours,” Erestor said, honestly.

The elf launched into an explanation for his being there, that Melpomaen had loaned him a book and he was returning it. 

Elrond asked after his time in the valley thus far and Glorfindel spoke very kindly and enthusiastically about the lovely warm weather (right). 

Erestor tried to think of any other person he had ever met in his long years that was as genuine and direct in their way of speaking as the elf before him, but it was fruitless. 

The elf spoke with his hands as much as he did with his mouth, the gestures exuberant, but graceful. He managed to somehow take up much more space and draw much more attention than anyone else he had ever seen in his life, without it seeming affected or self-centered.  
His accent was absurd, his word choice antiquated to the point of being ridiculous, and Erestor was completely entranced. 

He could not even follow the conversation for a moment, focused as he was on the way the corners of Glorfindel’s eyes would crinkle with his joyful, beaming smile, and the way his lips curved around his words. He stood suddenly, and both of the other elves fell silent and turned to look at him.

“Excuse me,” he said. “I had to stretch my legs.”

Glorfindel smiled blindingly at him again and Erestor only blinked.

“I was so hoping to see Melpomaen about, to thank him for his recommendation,” Glorfindel continued. “The book was not really to my tastes, but it is always nice to have a story to occupy you!”

Elrond gestured to the rolling ladder by Erestor. “If you leave it there we will put it where it belongs.”

“I shall do it,” Glorfindel proclaimed, and was up the ladder before either of them could dissuade him. It creaked a bit beneath his weight as he leaned forward and tilted his head to read the titles painted on the spines of the tomes on the shelves. 

Erestor really did make an effort not to ogle him outright but he kept leaning further and further into his space and was just far enough up the ladder that Erestor’s face was at his waist level.

And he _did_ have terrific legs.

The elf leaned out even further and reached up to place the book in its proper spot.  
The movement made the muscles in his arms bulge wonderfully and lifted the front of his tunic in such a way that Erestor was now face to face with the outline of his cock through his leggings. 

It was proportional to the rest of him, which in Glorfindel’s case, meant it was enormous. Erestor’s mouth went dry. 

His mind, ever predictable, helpfully supplied a detailed imagining of what a delightful struggle it would be to get it down his throat, and his legs went so weak he thought he might fall over for a moment. 

He steadied himself with a hand on the table, and passed the other over his face, mortified. He could tell his cheeks were hot, and he could practically feel Elrond fix him with a knowing expression but did not dare look over at him.

He pretended to be engrossed in the first document that he lay his hand on, which was an inventory of their grain stores, but he would rather come off as distracted by that than by the thought of choking on Glorfindel’s cock. 

He did not even notice Glorfindel coming down the ladder, selecting another volume for perusal, and readying to leave.

“Well! Good afternoon, my lord, counselor” Glorfindel chirped cheerfully, and glanced at Erestor.

“Yes! You. Good. Afternoon.” He could only imagine how flushed his face must be. He sounded like an idiot. 

He cleared his throat and gave as serious and professional a “farewell” as he could manage.

Elrond gave him a strange look, and Erestor shrugged desperately. They both turned to watch him walk away, Erestor cocking his head to the side with a pained expression on his face. 

“Oh, Elbereth help you,” Elrond whispered as they watched him bend gracefully to sniff at a rosebush just outside, his tunic lifting again to showcase his perfectly taut behind. 

“I want him so badly it may kill me,” Erestor blurted, and did not even have the good grace to look embarrassed about it. 

Elrond nodded. “It just might. Did you see -,”

“Yes. Yes. I saw.” He collapsed onto the desk and buried his head in his arms as the elf finally rounded the corner and disappeared from view. Elrond patted his back consolingly. They were silent for a moment, still reeling. 

“I’m going to have an early lunch with my wife.” Elrond said after a moment, standing to leave, and Erestor made a hysterical sound into the desk. 

 

His first order of business, he decided, was to scare Melpomaen off. 

Just as easily done as said, as the elf was young and quite timid, and he was absolutely terrified of Erestor. All it took was to stand nearer to Glorfindel than was strictly necessary one morning before they all sat to break their fast and stare very directly at Melpomaen across the hall. 

The young elf startled and immediately went about his business while very pointedly not looking in their direction. He felt a bit badly about it, but not badly enough not to do it, and really it was in everyone’s best interests in the end. 

Glorfindel, bless him, was entirely oblivious, and even asked Erestor if he could sit at his side. He asked him all sorts of interesting questions about his duties, and about how he came to be in Imladris, and all the attention left him feeling flattered and light-headed. 

He found, to his great surprise, that Glorfindel was pleasant to talk to, not just to look at. His genuine, warm demeanor from their first encounter sustained, and Erestor began to relax around him just a little.  
Maybe even a little too much, he thought, as he caught himself staring dreamily at Glorfindel’s mouth as he spoke several times. 

When Erestor excused himself and stood, Glorfindel stood too, and gave him another little bow. 

 

The next task he set for himself was to be extraordinarily attractive somewhere Glorfindel could clearly see him. 

He put on his very best robe: a flattering cut done in several layers of nearly sheer fabric, all in one shade of light blue that looked quite good against his dark skin, and which always brought in a shower of compliments whenever he wore it. 

He brushed his hair until it shone, ensured he was as moisturized as possible, and walked back and forth between the barracks and the main house until he saw him. 

It took longer than he was expecting, and he was waylaid several times by elves he had little interest in trying to ask him to join them for dinner, or for drinking, or to dance with them that eve in the hall, which was exhausting. 

Erestor did consider it well worth it, though, when he finally came across the elf he had been hoping to see. 

Glorfindel, Valar bless him, was shirtless and barefoot, sparring in the grass with several other elves. One of them spied Erestor and dropped his practice staff to wave just in time to get whacked hard across the stomach and collapse into a heap on the ground.

Glorfindel turned and waved and Erestor waved back. The golden elf was dripping in sweat and his chest was heaving. 

“You look well today, counselor” called Glorfindel.

“So do you,” returned Erestor, before he could stop himself, and Glorfindel blushed.

Erestor rushed away before he could humiliate himself any further.

 

The humid months of summer seemed to drag by as slowly as ever, but Erestor’s newfound pastime, Inventing Reasons To Be In The Same Place As Glorfindel, kept him very entertained.

It was addicting to be rewarded with that blinding smile. The pecs were also good. 

He discovered that Glorfindel was actually quite harmless, despite his size and skill with the blade, and that he cared much more for the softer pleasures of life than the glory and gore with which his name was associated.

He insisted upon learning to dance, which was terrible, and Erestor’s feet still ached.

He sang loudly and off-key, much to the minstrel Lindir’s horror, and every elfling’s delight.

He ate ravenously, drank enthusiastically, ran trainees ragged with contests and games, and could often be found lazing about in the fields watching clouds or making long chains of wildflowers.

Erestor was baffled and enraptured by every bit of it.

One afternoon, after a fruitless expedition to the barracks in hopes of hand-delivering a message to Glorfindel (he hadn’t been there at all, much to Erestor’s disappointment), he was caught in the type of sudden, steady downpour so typical of summers in the valley.

He was soaked in seconds, and bolted for the nearest cover. He was shocked when he quite literally ran into Glorfindel, which knocked the breath out of him. Glorfindel laughed and grasped his hand and they ran the rest of the way together, bursting into the gazebo in a spill of noise and motion.

They stood there, both of them drenched from the rain and panting from their run, the sounds of their breathing the only noise besides the pitter-patter of fat raindrops against the roof of the gazebo.

As per usual, he could not help the way Glorfindel drew his gaze, and Erestor drank in the sight of him - his golden curls dark and damp, his odd blue eyes sparkling.

An errant water droplet made its way down his throat and Erestor’s eyes followed its path, wandering further, observing how the thin material of his wet tunic was stretched taut about the muscles of his chest. He quickly diverted his eyes when it dawned on him how inappropriate what he was doing was.

That was, at least, until he realized that Glorfindel was doing the same. Erestor stared at his flushed face in awe until their eyes met and Glorfindel gave him a small, nervous smile.

He took a step forward into Erestor’s space, and Erestor turned his face up to him.  
“May I kiss you?” he asked, and Erestor nodded, so close that his nose brushed Glorfindel’s jaw. 

Glorfindel did, with just the lightest brush of his lips, one of his large hands coming up to cup Erestor’s cheek. The gesture was warm and possessive, and the kiss built until it was much the same, open-mouthed and wonderful.

Glorfindel’s hand rested on his hip, and Erestor gasped, his own fingers clenched in the wet fabric of Glorfindel’s tunic. A swell of heat swept through him, and the situation was suddenly unbearable. He absolutely had to have all of him. He turned his head.

“Stop, stop,” he breathed.

Glorfindel startled. “Oh, Erestor! I am so sorry, I did not mean to be so forward. I merely could not help myself. I have longed to kiss you since I very first saw you.”

“I only meant - Not here,” Erestor said. “Come to my rooms.”

Glorfindel took his hand and smiled, and together they dashed back out into the rain and across the courtyard to the main house. They stumbled through the halls sopping wet and laughing so hard that getting Erestor’s chambers unlocked was a challenge, and when they were finally behind closed doors, all Erestor could do was stare.

And then Glorfindel’s mouth was on his again, far more chastely than before but just as sweet. Glorfindel kissed him slowly, sweetly, and it was glorious with the promise of more. They kissed and kissed until Erestor’s mouth felt raw, and their bodies were pressed close, and Erestor’s hands were about Glorfindel’s shoulders, and Glorfindel’s were tangled in Erestor’s hair. 

Glorfindel mouth trailed a molten line from his mouth down his jaw to the sensitive skin of his neck. Erestor tilted his head and sighed happily.

Glorfindel knelt suddenly before him, trailing his large hands up Erestor’s arms, his expression determined.

“Say you’ll let me - I want -,” 

“Yes, of course,” Erestor breathed, dazed.

Glorfindel looked positively elated, and Erestor was beginning to steel himself for what was probably going to be the best oral sex of his life, when Glorfindel stood abruptly.

“Oh! Thank you! You shall not regret it, I promise you!” Glorfindel cried, and with that, he nearly ran from the room. 

Erestor stood, dumbfounded in his wet robes, staring at the door.

“What the fuck,” he muttered.


	2. Chapter 2

Erestor woke the next morning in a stormy mood. 

He had imbibed far too much wine before bed in an attempt to ease the sting of rejection. He had never anticipated Glorfindel literally running out of the room. That had surely never happened before.

Glorfindel had also never happened before, and would never happen again, and Erestor was beside himself, going back over every interaction to determine what he had done to warrant such an abrupt departure.

The wine hadn’t helped him make sense of anything at all, and it hadn’t made getting out of bed any easier, either.

He braided his hair precisely and pinned it back and grabbed the stack of scrolls and parchments he had brought to work on the evening prior. 

When he opened his door, Glorfindel was standing in the hall. 

Well, pacing, really. 

“ _Maer aur_ ,” he said cheerfully. He stepped forward and presented Erestor with a small yellow flower, which he tucked behind his ear. 

Erestor allowed it, perplexed. Glorfindel then managed to talk him into handing over his armload, walked with him to his office, and when he left he kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

Erestor was confused. Beyond confused. 

From there, his confusion only grew. Glorfindel, who he assumed he had offended, was more affectionate with him than ever before. 

 

Yet somehow all of Erestor’s usually foolproof methods of seduction fell flat.

 

Glorfindel invited him to a picnic lunch by the river. They sat together in a shady spot by the bank and fed each other cheeses and fruits and flaky biscuits that left their fingers sticky with honey, which of course Erestor had to lick off, and which Glorfindel seemed to really enjoy. 

It was still far too hot to be comfortable in the stately, proper sort of clothing Erestor favored, so he began, very subtly, to undress, one layer at a time. 

Glorfindel's eyes were wide and his hand was shaking by the time Erestor was left with only the thin white undershirt he wore beneath his robes, and when Erestor brought his hands to the ties of it, Glorfindel startled, proclaimed he did not know how to swim, and bolted for the house. 

Erestor sat, perplexed and aroused beyond belief, and wondered where he went wrong. 

 

Glorfindel invited him on a horseback ride, and when Erestor saw that Glorfindel’s horse was large and sturdy enough to accommodate both of them, he grinned wickedly and mounted right in front of the other elf, thrilled at the way Glorfindel's muscled front brushed against his back. When he settled properly in his seat, his ass was pressed delightfully against Glorfindel's crotch, and he could feel the outline of that glorious, magnificent cock quite clearly.

As they rode, he would point to landmarks and tell Glorfindel all about them, twisting a bit in his seat to look at him as he did so, and making Glorfindel gasp.

“Asfaloth is such a fine horse. May I give him a treat?” He asked, and when Glorfindel gave him leave, Erestor leaned forward, stretching sensuously in a way that he knew must make him look irresistible, and which pressed him even more firmly against Glorfindel in a perfect mimicry of the way they might come together for pleasure. Just when he began to feel Glorfindel react, the elf fell straight off the horse. 

“Ow,” he heard him whimper, and then Erestor was up and off the horse himself, helping him back on. 

He walked beside as they returned, escorted Glorfindel directly to the healing halls, and got an earful and a half from Elrond - about “proper” horseback riding etiquette and not “breaking” the reborn elf sent back by the Valar to aid them - for his trouble.

 

It went on and on like that, in the same disastrous, embarrassing, unbearably drawn-out manner for the entirety of the summer and then some.

They would kiss, and there were even some roaming hands. He nearly passed out one time when they were sitting together on the divan in Glorfindel’s room, sharing kisses - the elf put a hand on his ass and Erestor could hardly believe his luck. 

However, every time they threatened to progress past that, Glorfindel would present him with some gift, or insist upon reciting a bit of poetry (and at one point even gave to him a _collection_ of poems in his own terrible hand, complete with messy scratch-throughs, and unforgivable phrases like “raven hair” and “midnight orbs”). 

It was maddening, and though he wasn’t getting any, nobody, not a single soul believed him.

It did not help his case that Glorfindel was so enthusiastic with his public gestures of affection. He was always at Erestor’s side, the very spirit of polite, respectful romance, opening doors for him, bringing him lunch in his office, dancing with him in the hall at night. 

Melpomaen shot him jealous looks when he thought he was not looking. 

Saelbeth asked for a play-by-play and when Erestor had no material to provide, and said as much, he told Erestor: “You never used to be such a prude, you know!” 

Even Elrond scoffed, when after he asked what they spent so many hours in Erestor’s rooms doing if they were not engaged in passionate lovemaking, Erestor answered, very honestly: “Well, we talk, mostly, or read together. Sometimes we play chess.” 

Which was true, they really did, and Glorfindel beat him more often than not, much to his shock and admiration. Erestor would watch him from across the board as he furrowed his brow and bit at his lip in concentration, or toyed with a piece in his lovely hands, his fingers running over the grooves in the wood in a way that, especially when paired with the good rich wine he would bring, made Erestor feel hot beneath his collar.

Elrond, though, curse him, acted for all the world like it was some sort of hilarious, irresistibly clever inside joke between them.

“Are you going to go _play chess_?” He asked him conspiratorially one evening as Erestor was taking his leave after the meal, and gave him a suggestive wink. Celebrian snorted and then hid her grin behind her hand.

Erestor was losing his fucking _mind_. 

Usually, Erestor was faced with the opposite problem - He would lie with someone, and then find it impossible to be rid of them though he wanted it very badly. 

Now here he was, with Glorfindel barely laying a finger on him, completely unable to bear the thought of sending him away. 

Despite his ever-growing frustration, he could not bring himself to be anything but happy around Glorfindel. He was far, far too handsome for his own good, their time together was always pleasant, and the elf was so genuine and sweet.

He knew all of Erestor’s favorite foods, and favorite books, and once he even paid Lindir with a golden coin he got from Manwe-only-knew-where to stand beneath Erestor’s balcony one evening as they dined and play his harp.

After, Glorfindel held him close and they danced there, just the two of them swaying in the dark even when the music had stopped. 

 

 

One day, in the midst of the harvest feast’s preparations, Erestor realized that _that_ night was going to be _the_ night. It was finally going to happen. He could tell.

Glorfindel had been hanging around him all day, practically levitating with excitement, and had been even more affectionate with him than usual, which was saying a lot. 

He had brought him lunch, and kissed him passionately for so long that Elrond began to throw crumpled up parchment at them, and by the time Erestor actually got around to eating the food that Glorfindel had brought it was ice cold.

He came to dinner dressed impeccably and was suffused entirely with a kind of unbearable giddiness that made sitting by his side almost dangerous. Erestor ended up with a sleeve-full of tomato soup because Glorfindel had tried to feed him and they’d both been laughing too hard for it not to end in disaster.

Elrond looked a bit queasy, probably terrified he would get a repeat performance of their earlier display, but he really had no room to talk since they weren’t even half as bad as he had been when he had first married Celebrian (who did not seem to mind at all and even encouraged Glorfindel, passing him morsels “for Erestor”).

All through the meal, some part of them was always touching. Glorfindel’s hand was at his back, or on his arm. He kissed Erestor on his cheek and tucked his hair behind his ear, and by the time the dessert wines were passed around, his hand had settled warm and steady on Erestor’s thigh.

Erestor could have sang from the rooftops. He was really a very respectable elf, though, at least in public, so he only smiled sweetly and drank quickly.

 

After, Glorfindel led him on a pleasant stroll through the gardens. Erestor’s entire body felt hot with anticipation.  
It was not exactly where he had imagined this happening but at this point he would have let Glorfindel fuck him sideways in a pile of hay with half of the valley watching and taking bets on who came first if only it meant he’d finally be getting some.

Glorfindel pulled him down to sit with him beneath an arbor of sweet-smelling night blooms. Erestor sat practically in his lap and gazed fondly at him, enamoured as ever with his handsomeness. 

“You are so beautiful,” the golden elf whispered.

“I think the same of you,” said Erestor, and Glorfindel smiled.

He brought out a soft cloth pouch, and emptied it into his hand, which he then offered to Erestor. 

Sitting in his palm were two silver rings.

Erestor nearly fell backwards off the bench.

“What is that!?” He exclaimed, the beginnings of panic taking root in his heart.

“Betrothal rings?” Glorfindel replied, baffled.

“ _Rings!?_ ” Erestor squeaked.

“I have been courting you for months,” Glorfindel said, sounding a bit kicked. “It seemed the most sensible next step.”

Erestor balked. “Courting…? You have been _courting_ me?”

“You only need say ‘no,’ Erestor, not make fun at my expense,” Glorfindel muttered, and grabbed the pouch, and the rings, and stood with the clear intent to leave.

“No!” Erestor blurted, and grabbed at Glorfindel’s robes.

He sat back down again, eyes wide.

“Sorry, I did not mean to yell. Or to -,” Erestor waved his hand frantically between them. “It is only… that is not much done, these days, so I was not expecting it, and it gave me quite a shock.”

“Oh,” said Glorfindel, and he looked down at the rings in his hands. The disappointment in his voice made Erestor’s chest feel tight. They both sat in silence for a while.

“I feel so foolish, now,” Glorfindel said, finally. “That day - you thought I… and then I…”

Erestor could not bear how devastated and embarrassed Glorfindel looked. He himself was blushing terribly, and his heart was pounding in his chest. 

Glorfindel made a strange, strangled noise, and then walked away.

 

Erestor sat in the garden for a few hours more, until the commotion in the hall had fallen to silence, and he was sure he could walk to his room without anyone seeing that he had been crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I couldn't resist another cliffhanger because I'm terrible and I live for drama. Third part should be up rather quickly, though, if it's any consolation!


End file.
